


Third Date

by Missyhissy3



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romance, little bit of humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24650911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missyhissy3/pseuds/Missyhissy3
Summary: A familiar beginning with an alternative continuation...
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 25
Kudos: 99





	Third Date

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Massive thank you is owed to northernexposure for her beta read and for her excellent suggestions about how to improve the first draft I sent her of this story, and for convincing me not to give up.  
> Another big shout-out to Photogirl1890 for her magical typo check; she finds typos that are otherwise completely invisible to mere mortals like me.
> 
> Hope everyone out there is safe and well; I feel very grateful that the trek universe is still here to escape to during lockdown. xxx

Third date

Ready Room

CHAKOTAY: Crewman Chell's asked about taking over in the mess hall full time.  
JANEWAY: Neelix left some pretty big pots and pans to fill. Does Mister Chell feel he's up to the challenge?  
CHAKOTAY: Apparently so. He's prepared a sample menu.  
JANEWAY: Plasma leek soup? Chicken warp core-don bleu?  
CHAKOTAY: If his cooking's as bad as his puns, we're in trouble.  
JANEWAY: Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't mind giving his Red Alert chilli a try. Feel like having lunch?  
CHAKOTAY: I'd love to.  
JANEWAY: It’s a date, then.  
 _KIM: Kim to Captain Janeway._  
JANEWAY: Go ahead, Harry.  
 _KIM: There’s been a fire in the galley, Captain. Fire crew has it under control, but Crewman Chell wanted you to know that lunch is off._  
JANEWAY: Thank you, Mr Kim. Guess we’ll just have to rely on our replicator rations. Janeway out.  
CHAKOTAY: Chell’s Red Alert chilli must have been a little hotter than intended. He did used to make a mean Molotov cocktail, back in the day.  
JANEWAY: Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not one to let a little culinary mishap spoil my plans. Meet me in my quarters at 13.00hrs? Hope you’re in the mood for something a little different this time.  
CHAKOTAY: Absolutely.

* * *

Captain’s Quarters 13.03

“What’s all this?”

“A picnic,” she offers with limited conviction from where she is seated on the blanket, reaching up to hand him a glass of wine. “Or at least it would have been, if Seven hadn’t ‘requested’ my immediate presence in Astrometrics just as I was trying to coax the damn replicator into doing its job properly for once.”

Chakotay accepts the proffered glass and a small smile lifts one side of his mouth as he wonders whether ‘coax’ is really the right word. “I’m glad you didn’t let the fact that the holodecks are still offline affect your plans.”

“I did consider a cargo bay, for that ‘outdoor’ feel, but it seemed rather public.” Her eyes flicker quickly away from his. “So, as it is, we’re here on the carpet,” she gestures towards the foodstuffs laid out before her, “and we’ve got hastily replicated cheese and wine, and – the piece de résistance – Chell’s best attempt at a French baguette.”

Chakotay takes in the replicated fare and the metre-long torpedo of crust dividing the picnic blanket into two distinct halves. “You didn’t have to go to this much trouble.”

The sideways smile makes a welcome appearance. “I quite enjoyed my visit to the aftermath of Mr Chell’s explosive morning in the galley actually. It was a welcome respite after Seven’s summoning – not to mention Tuvok’s monthly security report. You reviewed your copy yet? All 23 pages of it?”

“Yes. It was my bedtime reading last night. In his defence, it was an eventful month.”

“You can say that again.”

“Still,” he muses, “they do say brevity is the sister of talent, as well as the soul of wit.”

“Who says that exactly? Your ancestors? The Breen? Somehow, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t anyone on Vulcan.”

He grins.

“Anyway, you look like you could do with a break too. Sit down,” she almost orders. As soon as the words are out, however, she qualifies quickly, “Unless you’re not in the mood for sitting on the floor, of course,” her tone less certain. “We can move the table and chairs back if you prefer.”

“No. Don’t change a thing.” He manoeuvres himself down a little awkwardly to place himself in the available space on one side of the unlikely loaf, trying to avoid brushing against the (hopefully) edible dividing line, all without putting down the glass of wine. Propping himself up on one elbow, he carefully stretches his long legs out in front of him. He summons the most relaxed-looking smile he can. They clink glasses. “This is just fine.”

Kathryn smiles and they both take a sip. “It is good to know both of us are off duty this afternoon at the same time for once, isn’t it?” she says.

“It is.”

“Anyone would think the person in charge of the duty roster was trying to keep us apart.”

He frowns, off balance again. “Kathryn, you’re the one who said you didn’t want me to let this,” he gestures towards the picnic with his glass of wine, “affect the decisions I make as part of my job.”

“I did. And I meant it. I still mean it. I guess I hadn’t realised just how _long_ it was going to be between dates.”

As they hold each other’s gaze, he tries to stop himself from pondering too much the significance of her frustration with the delays between their dates. It doesn’t have to be a pre-cursor to saying it isn’t going to work after all and calling it off.

“Well, we’re here now, so let’s make the most of date number three.”

She nods. “Agreed. Let’s face it, it can’t go much worse than dates number one or two, can it?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Are you actually _trying_ to jinx us now?”

“Of course not,” she says cheerfully. “I just think the universe owes us a break.”

“It’s certainly true that things haven’t exactly gone to plan so far,” he acknowledges.

“That’s one way of putting it. How were we supposed to know that the beautiful moonlit cove we’d rowed into was the favourite roosting spot of the Crune’s giant flying rodents?”

“Don’t remind me.” He supresses a shudder and passes his wine glass to the hand resting on the blanket so he can rub the side of his neck. “Despite the Doc’s best efforts I’m convinced I can still feel the spot where the largest one attached itself.”

“I’ve never seen you go so pale.”

“I guess that’s what happens when you have a metre-long blood-sucking alien bat tapping into your carotid artery. I’m just grateful you’re so handy with an oar.”

“Guess we did have _some_ luck – at least I hit the damn thing on the first swing.”

“Good point.”

“And then last time,” she goes on, passing him a plate on which lies a large curl of bark-like crust that she’s torn from the missile of dough, “it was more than a little inconsiderate of the Gaylarn Border Squad to jump out of warp directly in our path, guns blazing, just as you were opening the cider.”

“It was,” he concurs, biting bravely into the crusty twist.

Kathryn takes hold of the loaf. This time it seems less co-operative. The exposed edges actually look sharp. She winces a little as she battles to pull off a portion for herself, catching his eye mid-grapple, her expression pained. “I’m so sorry this baguette is something of a disaster, Chakotay. Really. Please don’t feel obliged to eat it.”

“Don’t worry. It’s fine,” he replies, making appreciative noises as he masticates carefully, hoping to avoid lacerations to the insides of his mouth.

“You remember when I made you coffee in the ready room yesterday, while you filled me in on the rather unfortunate side effects of that virus that took hold on Deck 15?”

“I do. Believe me, those side effects aren’t easily forgotten. Why do you ask?”

“Well, when it comes to opportunities for anything remotely resembling an intimate conversation, so far, I’d say that five-minute chat is beating our first two dates hands down.”

He chuckles, wiping tiny shards of crust from his lips. “You may have a point.”

She raises her glass in a toast. “Third time lucky?”

He shakes his head. “There you go again, tempting fate.”

“Sorry!” She smiles as they clink glasses.

Some of the tension seems to ease a little. Humour works for them – or it has done to date. Then again, it’s also a signature Janeway re-direction tactic, expert as she is at steering them towards the light-hearted whenever awkwardness threatens or whenever their interactions begin to subtly redefine parameters. Parameters she mysteriously decided to disregard when she suggested their first date... Interesting times.

After taking another small sip, he puts down his glass, takes the cheese knife and cuts into the obviously overripe Brie. Then he passes her a slice that she attempts to anchor across her arc of crust – _maybe the addition of cheese will make it more palatable._

“This cheese has spoiled, hasn’t it?” Clearly disheartened, she points out what he chose to ignore.

“It’s actually still quite good.” He smiles encouragement. “And I for one am very glad you decided not to risk another trip down to an alien beauty spot or even to the holodeck,” he admits. “I’m more than happy to try things the old fashioned way this time, and simply share some food, wine, and conversation.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she replies, her voice dropping a fraction in pitch, the gravel just a touch more honeyed than usual.

They both take another mouthful of wine and she holds his gaze for a beat as she swallows. The hairs on the back of Chakotay’s neck stand to attention. It’s ridiculous how she can do that with just one look. Flick some switch and have him instantly on yellow alert.

Determined to ground himself again, despite the nagging uncertainty he can’t quite seem to dispel about the strength of her commitment to persisting with these dates, he decides to take a leap of faith and just ask. It’s almost two weeks now since he’s first wanted to.

“So, now that we’ve made it to date number three, and the first two disasters don’t appear to have been enough to put you off just yet, I was wondering if it was safe to ask what it was that prompted you to ask me on date number one?” He watches her face carefully as she registers the question. “And if you’d rather not say, that’s fine,” he adds hastily. “I’m more than happy to continue to enjoy the mystery.”

“Are you sure you want to know?” comes the rather unnerving reply.

“I think so,” he risks.

“Really?”

“Really.” He swallows a tense mouthful of wine.

“Well, a few weeks ago Tom Paris brought something to my attention.”

He nods. And waits through her pause.

“It seems Seven had started to improvise her own social lessons. Guess the Doctor wasn’t up to the job after all.”

Chakotay quirks a brow. “Some might say putting a hologram in charge of human socialisation wasn’t the most orthodox approach.”

“He appointed himself!” she counters immediately, feigning indignation.

“True. But neither of us saw fit to stop him. But, I don’t see how Seven’s improvised social lessons are relevant here.”

Kathryn toys with the stem of her wine glass. “It appears she’d been experimenting with a holographic date.”

Chakotay shrugs. “And?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“She selected _you_ as her holographic date.”

Chakotay’s mind goes completely blank for a split second. “Me?”

“You.”

He inhales, raising his eyebrows and huffs, his disquiet no doubt evident. Kathryn is observing his reactions intently, the way he might examine a rare archaeological find. He shifts stiffly. “I- I wasn’t aware- Let’s just say she’s hidden her interest in me extremely efficiently.”

Kathryn goes on. “It appears Mr Paris accidentally interrupted her, mid-program, in the holodeck control room. He filled her in on protocols regarding the use of holograms of members of the crew. Then he brought it to me, so I could address the Doctor’s role in it. Needless to say, I brought the Doctor up to speed regarding the use of holograms of colleagues too.”

“Glad to hear it.” All of Chakotay's considerable strength of will is needed to keep his mind from straying to ponder the uses this hologram may already have been put to by Seven before Paris’ intervention. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this, Kathryn. It should have been my call.”

“Under the circumstances, I didn’t give Tom a hard time for coming to me rather than to you. I could see why it could be... delicate.”

Chakotay raises a brow, but doesn’t interrupt her.

“Tom probably shouldn’t have, but he also told me that he suggested to Seven that she might want to try running a compatibility algorithm before she took her experiment off the holodeck into real life,” she goes on, possibly a little uncomfortable too now. “She was impressed by the logical efficiency of this approach, apparently. So, Seven being Seven, she devised and ran a compatibility algorithm on the spot, and promptly de-selected you, I’m told.”

He frowns. “I see.”

“It seems that her algorithm shifted her interest to Harry for now.”

Her explanation appears to be at an end.

“So, Seven’s sudden interest in me, it made you… uncomfortable,” he suggests carefully.

She gives him a look it’s hard to interpret. Then she toys with the stem of her wine glass some more. He waits.

“I realise my ‘discomfort’ doesn’t paint me in a particularly favourable light.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” he qualifies hastily. “It just seems-” he falters. “So, this was what prompted you to re-consider the possibility of changing the parameters between us?”

She nods. He watches her take the smallest of bites of her bread and cheese, before she makes a face, discarding the crust onto the plate and rubbing her hands together to shake loose any crumbs.

Chakotay is uneasy. Expert as she undoubtedly is at diplomacy, dissimulation, and redirection, it seems more or less certain that his companion isn’t telling him everything. He can’t help himself. It may not be wise to push, but before he can stop himself the words are already coming out. “To be honest, it doesn’t seem like enough to explain your change of heart. _I know you_ , Kathryn. Something tells me that there’s more to this.”

Janeway blinks, and something shifts in her gaze. “So you’re not satisfied with ‘our ex-Borg inspired me to date you’ then?”

“It just not like you to be so easily influenced by the behaviour of others.”

“How about ‘I finally found your animal magnetism too hard to resist’?”

His expression is enough of a reply to that one.

Kathryn takes a sip, looks deeply into her wine and puts it down. “And you’re still sure you want to know?”

Chakotay nods, sensing her resolve to fob him off failing.

“The rest isn’t exactly a cheerful story.”

“I’d still like to hear it – but only if you want to tell me,” he reassures, his tone measured, despite the unsettling effect of the confusing cocktail of adrenaline and something less familiar coursing through his veins.

“I think it started when we lost Joe Carey.” Her face remains downcast. “I’m not sure why the futility of his death hit me so much harder than other senseless losses we’ve endured.” She looks up to reconnect with his gaze, a certain pained defiance in her eyes. “We both know he certainly wasn’t the first.” She swallows. “Maybe it was because we’ve had nearly seven years together now, and on top of that I knew Joe before. I knew his family, Chakotay.” She sighs. “He was one of the officers I handpicked – I knew I wanted him on my first command. And once we were stranded, he and I used to talk occasionally. We swapped stories about the lives we’d left behind. You know how he was right up there with Harry in the desperate-to-get-home stakes, but what you might not know is how _guilty_ he felt about not being there for his boys, for his wife. I think those feelings stopped him from trying to make more of a life for himself on the ship. And now it turns out that the life on the ship was all he was to have.”

He can’t look away – even though she might resent such scrutiny – but she surprises him by holding his gaze, a small smile eventually curving her lips, her eyes full. Eyes full of so much; in them he wonders if he can see hope, hope for the two of them, and for this fragile thing they’d started?

Silence settles on the room. He risks reaching for her hand, and she allows their fingers to gently tangle together. The feel of her cool skin against his makes him even more aware of the quiet tension slowly building.

“It’s natural that his death has affected you this way,” he offers eventually. “Engineering is still subdued. And I know his loss has taken quite a toll on many of the bridge crew.”

She dips her head, nodding slowly, then looks up into his eyes again. “You and I, Chakotay, we’ve both cheated death so many times now. We’ve been so very, very lucky. It may be cliché, but losing Joe just got me to thinking about how soon our luck could just as easily run out.”

He nods, remembering a twenty-something Naomi Wildman and a thirty-something Icheb telling him that in their timeline, he and Kathryn had both died seventeen years before. He didn’t need to do the math to know that if time hadn’t reset, he and Kathryn might soon have been living on borrowed time.

She goes on, “Every loss is hard to deal with, but, so far, this – well, it feels like the universe is trying to encourage me to accept something many of the crew accepted long ago – the need for a fuller life on the journey.”

“My father would tell you that what you’ve been feeling is the result of Carey’s spirit seeking you out – determined to do some good, to convince you to seize the day, as they say. That Joe’s spirit is determined to make sure that his death won’t be in vain.”

Janeway tilts her head towards him. “I like that explanation.”

He smiles. “I thought you might.”

Her hand slips out of his and she shifts to prop herself up on her elbow and mirror his posture. Then, looking down, she begins to slowly trace lines across the back of his hand for a moment before meeting his gaze again. Her new proximity is deliciously distracting. Her faint perfume flirts with his senses.

“It seems like our third date is shaping up better than I expected,” she says slowly.

He quirks a brow. “You mean given our track record so far?”

“You have to admit, until today, it has been less than stellar.”

This time, when she brings up their first two disasters, she’s smiling. Chakotay is captivated by her full smile in all its facets: natural, warm, gratified, a little flirtatious. Her face is close now – only centimetres below his.

“I know my first explanation wasn’t enough for you, but do you think it’d work on Starfleet Command? If we get miraculously whisked home tomorrow, and I get hauled over the coals for my error in judgment about fraternisation, do you think ‘my ex-Borg inspired me to, Sir,” will cut it with them?”

He chuckles. “Maybe not. Perhaps we should have another defence prepared just in case.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“We accidentally consumed alien aphrodisiacs?” he offers. “Alien mind control? We were victims of devious aliens studying human courtship rituals?”

“Good idea.” Delight sparkles in her eyes. “We could blame those aliens who stuck needles in my skull and made you go bald.”

They laugh at the shared memory, and he enjoys the freedom of letting more of the affection he feels for her into his expression than he has consciously allowed before. Warmth spreads through his chest; he knows she can read his pleasure. Over the past seven years, so much has passed between them without words in pauses like this.

_“Tuvok to Captain Janeway.”_

They stare at one another for a beat. Then she lets out a sigh as she shakes her head and retracts her hand from his.

She looks down. “What can I do for you, Mr Tuvok?”

_“Pardon the interruption, Captain, Commander, but the scouting shuttles have returned 12 hours ahead of schedule. They have information about a necessary course change. The crews will be ready for debriefing in 15 minutes.”_

“Very good, Mr Tuvok, Janeway out.” Face still downcast, she quirks a brow. “And date number three was going so much better.” She sighs again.

“Do you want to just admit defeat?” he fishes, tense, watching her.

She looks up. “No. No, I don’t,” she replies with feeling, surprising him by quickly clasping his shoulder and squeezing the mound of muscle.

“What do you want then?” His enquiry is utterly genuine.

“That’s a lot harder to answer than you might think.” Her eyes flicker briefly to the side, then return to his, her expression unguarded. “I’ve spent years trying _not_ to want. It’s been exhausting– trying not to want the way others might try not to give in to an addiction.”

“I can understand that. So, why not make a start at an answer, even if it’s hard. What do you want to do right now?” He gives himself up to the wonderful rush that comes over him as he dangles helplessly on her next words.

She moves a fraction closer, her gaze dropping to his lips and lingering there.  
“I don’t want to wait anymore, Chakotay. We’ve waited long enough.”

He just watches her for another full breath – can’t help himself – it’s just too perfect a moment not to prolong and savour. “I’m so glad you said that; I couldn’t agree more,” he replies, slowly leaning in to bring his lips to hers.

He kisses her comprehensively, taking his time, determined to make it count.

“That’s more like it,” she husks, eventually.

“Glad you approve, Captain.” He grins, wide. “Guess we should probably start to head up to the bridge no-”

“Stay right where you are, Commander,” she orders, sliding a hand behind his neck and guiding him back in for another kiss.

[The End]


End file.
